Sanctuary
by WhisperingShoeWeasels
Summary: Seven of Nine takes care of her little friend Naomi and makes her feel better. Dark fic.


Author's Notes:This is a one-shot story re-edited cuz the last one bugged me. It isn't really meant to make sense. It's just fun to explore some darker possibility... 

Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager and her crew belong to Paramount. I'm just playing with em!

SANCTUARY

NaomiWildman is crying.

That is unacceptable.

Tears are irrelevant, but NaomiWildman's distress is not.

With a simple thought, I command the Borg drone to release the child and transport itself to Cargo Bay 2 for regeneration. Although it has been freshly assimilated with remnants of black hair still attached to its grey scalp, it immediately complies and is gone in a dispersal of green light. It is unsurprising that NaomiWildman registers both shock and confusion at this unexpected behaviour. I concur. It is certainly disconcerting to me that I should behave this way. Perhaps this is a result of Individuality? It seems it has made me both erratic and small. Still, I am determined to be no less efficient.

After all, I am Borg.

I will adapt.

"It is all right now, NaomiWildman," I assure her in even tones as I step into the room. "You will not be harmed."

The girl suddenly whirls to face me. She had not noticed my presence by the doorway until now.

"S-seven?" she gasps and I detect a large measure of relief in her voice. The impact of her arms suddenly wrapped around my torso almost staggers me. It is a curious sensation and I find myself hesitantly returning the hug as she trembles against my body.

"Oh Seven, the-the Borg…in the corridor…they came…they took my mummy away! She shouted at me to run! And-and I did! I ran and ran and ran all the way back home…but m-mummy wasn't there…but the Borg lady was and she grabbed me-and-and I don't know what to do!"

I frown down at the child as her rapid speech deteriorates into muffled sobs and my previous sense of disconcertion grows. I do not like to see NaomiWildman this way. It is clear I must endeavour to rectify this matter now.

"Do not worry, NaomiWildman," I gently untangle myself from her arms and kneel down to look straight into her tearful eyes. "Your mother is with me."

"She-she is?" Her red unhappy face lights up with hope. "Is-is she okay? Did she get away from the Borg? Can I see her?"

"Your mother is functioning quite adequately," I reply and then tilt my head in an enquiring manner. "Would you like to speak with her?"

The child frantically nods her assent. "Oh yes! Yes! Thank you, Seven! I'd really, really like that!"

Without another word, I immediately plunge my assimilation tubules deep into her neck.

There is a strangled gasp, then a look of confused horror as NaomiWildman stiffens in my arms. I am certain she would have struggled if the nanoprobes had not already paralysed her muscles in order to prevent any unnecessary expenditure of energy. It is most efficient. With a sense of fascination, I observe small infinitesimal explosions rupturing within her body. She will be feeling pain now as her molecular structure is modified, and even though I am unsure of the effectiveness of the action, I begin to stroke her hair and murmur soothing words.

"Shhh…It will be all right, it will pass quickly."

"…s-s-seeeeven…." Her throat convulses as she struggles to speak. "…sssss-s-s…"

"Shhhhh…" I continue to gently stroke her hair and it comes away in my fingers. A small starburst implant emerges from behind her ear and I smile. NaomiWildman will soon be connected to the Collective. Already her expression has changed from anxious to distracted. They will be whispering their welcome to her.

"Listen to the voices," I suggest, carefully brushing off stray brittle follicles from her greying scalp. "They have come to bring you harmony."

NaomiWildman does not answer. Instead, her eyes dart around the room in an agitated manner. It is a familiar behavioural pattern of the semi-assimilated as they sense the ebb and flow of the Collective washing over their mind. Suddenly the child freezes and her eyes widen in dawning comprehension.

"…m-mummy…?"

She blinks and tilts her head in concentration. I did not lie when I told her she could speak with her mother. There is a long pause as the girl listens intently, oblivious to the silver tendrils of a cranial implant worming under the skin of her forehead. I watch the final interlink node activate itself with a pulse of energy and then her expression relaxes into the silent stare of complete acceptance.

I rise from my kneeling position and she stands stiffly at attention, still and waiting. Normally, assimilation would be followed by integration involving the fitting of suitable external implants in accordance to the new drones designated function within the Collective. However, NaomiWildman is still too undeveloped to undergo this procedure.

It is easily rectified.

The doors to the quarters hiss open and two Borg drones march towards me. They stop and wait for instructions. I note with approval that the Doctor has already attached the tools required for their purpose. He has become proficient at Borg integration since we reprogrammed him.

'Beta Section Unit Three of Five and One of Five,' I state, addressing them through our Borg interlink. 'You will construct a maturation chamber for Subunit One. These quarters are now your designated area. They will be referred to as Maturation Chamber Zero One — Beta Section Five. You will maintain this chamber and ensure the optimum function of this subunit.'

The drone, Three of Five formally known as Ensign SamanthaWildman, turns and scans the subunit with her optical implant. As the red beam flows over the unblinking features of her assimilated daughter I am satisfied to sense no disruption to the harmony of their thoughts. NaomiWildman is no longer distressed and has been reunited with her mother. She will never cry again.

'We will comply.'

I leave the Maturation Chamber feeling accomplished.

THE END

(At last! AT LAST! I did it! I assimilated Naomi! Again! mwahahahahaha!)

Tips and crits always appreciated...It helps me assimilate grammar.


End file.
